


the seed we bury in soil; flourish, even after we die

by yaminogemu



Series: fem/feb but i do what i want [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), No beta we die like Konan, Time Travel Fix-It, Uchiha Izuna Lives, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaminogemu/pseuds/yaminogemu
Summary: It was in moments such as these, when Konan would encounter Mito and see her as if for the first time, that she understood why one being would worship another.time travelorflourish
Relationships: Konan & Uchiha Izuna, Konan/Uzumaki Mito
Series: fem/feb but i do what i want [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164353
Kudos: 11





	the seed we bury in soil; flourish, even after we die

Waves crashed before Konan, little pockets of swirling tide producing this land’s namesake whirlpools. Konan sat perched above the ocean on a rocky ledge. Sandy beach sprawled out just a few feet below her, methodically consumed by the tide every few moments. Dark evening sky surrounded the scene. The only lights came from the full moon above and a few sporadically placed lanterns, waypoints for misguided civilians.

Despite the hour and distance, Konan could still faintly hear cacophony and bustle coming from the Uzumaki compound. The clan was preparing for their upcoming departure. The entire clan was not only leaving their current compound home, but leaving the Land of Whirlpools entirely. Everything not nailed down was being ripped apart, tore down, and packed neatly into storage seals. Families were stripping their home of all sentimental items, cooks were frantically preparing last-minute rations for the long trip ahead, grown adults were convincing stubborn old parents that they could _not_ just stay in the compound by themselves. Within the next few days they would begin their journey to the Land of Fire, where they would join a certain newly founded shinobi village.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Mito made her approach easy to be heard, a courtesy for shinobi. Her sandals shuffling through the sand were audible from a mile away. For more reasons than the one, Konan wasn’t surprised to see her in the slightest. She merely inclined her head toward her friend in agreement. 

“Yes.” She answered. “I’ll miss it.”

Mito took a seat next to Konan on the rock outcropping. Her kimono folded and wrinkled as she settled with her legs criss-crossed comfortably. Most of her casual clothing was silk or satin, the cloth tonight no exception. Her hair was down for the evening, loosened out of her usual twin buns. It cascaded down her back and shoulders like a rich crimson waterfall. Soft, subtle perfume clung to the air around her. It was in moments such as these, when Konan would encounter Mito and _see_ her as if for the first time, that she understood why one being would worship another.

Mito leaned toward Konan slightly and stage-whispered her response. “Me, too.”

“You’re leaving behind much more than I am.”

Mito had lived in Whirlpool her entire life. Konan would miss the land, and the compound itself, which had given her respite and belonging: but her feeling of loss was nothing compared to Mito’s.

Konan could see Mito’s smile shine through the dim light. “My clan is coming with me. I’m leaving behind much less than I have always expected.”

Less than expected. She had expected to leave her home, clan, and family entirely. Expected to be wed to a stranger in a foreign land. To Mito, this change in plan was the better of two evils.

“This place is your home.” Konan insisted, frowning minutely. “It’s different in the Land of Fire.”

“Have you spent much time there, then?” Mito asked innocently, cheerfully redirecting the conversation.

Konan rolled her eyes with a huff. Mito was always so _insistent_ . Konan had not shared much of her past with the Uzumaki clan or Mito herself. The most obvious reason being that admitting to travelling through time sounded like the worst strategy Konan could imagine. Even before her sudden adventure through time, before Tobi had ended her life and the entire world as she knew it, she was an extremely private person. _No one_ knew her secrets and she very much intended to keep it that way. 

Before everything, she ran multiple separate spy networks _simultaneously._ Good luck getting her to talk, Mito.

“Where else would I have acquired Izuna?” Konan countered dryly.

“Acquired?” Mito laughed. “I don’t think he would phrase it quite like that.”

That would be because Izuna was an entitled brat and the single most annoying man Konan ever had the displeasure of meeting. He would probably categorize their meeting and subsequent partnership as “kidnapping” or “held hostage” or “dragged across Fire Country half-dead”. Konan considered it more “magnanimous” and “an act of mercy” and, most of all, a decision she regretted daily.

“Where else would I have been inflicted with Izuna, then.” She amended.

“The friendship between you and your companion warms the very depths of my heart.” Mito placed her hand on her chest and closed her eyes in mock reverence. “Truly, you two are a sign that peace is possible.”

Ah. That was the heart of everything, wasn’t it.

“That he’s alive is peace enough.” Konan stated, turning back to face the waves, very aware of Mito’s suddenly sharp gaze focused entirely on her.

“Hm.” Mito hummed, yet gave no further comment. 

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the faint clamoring from the compound and the waves swirling below.

When she first found herself in this place, in the past, she had been completely lost. Nagato was dead, the Akatsuki was no more. Naruto was gone from her, although she dearly hoped he still lived in that all too distant future. Even Ame itself didn’t exist here.

For a while, she wandered.

She travelled aimlessly, seeking some sense of purpose. She had never been so lost in her life. Even as a child, she at least had Yahiko. She had the goal of securing food and safety for their little family. When Yahiko died, she still had Nagato and the Akatsuki to protect. When Nagato died, she had Naruto and his dreams of peace. Now, she had no one.

An idle mind, without clear direction or purpose, allowed her far too much time to _think._

For months, she dwelled. Found herself reliving wounds she had long since stitched up and forgotten. Found herself drifting, unable to sleep while simultaneously plagued by nightmares. She worked herself to exhaustion, running whatever errands she could pick up from desperate civilians. She worked until her body could no longer physically remain awake, only to be plunged into her darkest memories as soon as she was unconscious. She was drowning.

Then, she found Izuna.

Konan knew little of Izuna in her past (future?) life. She knew he was Uchiha Madara’s brother, killed by Senju Tobirama, although such information was very difficult to find. The only reason she bothered to contribute the resources to verify it was because of Tobi. 

Tobi, who she was now certain was not, actually, Uchiha Madara.

She had seen the man in passing, intentionally. There were far too many differences between the real Uchiha Madara and the future imposter. The voice was wrong, the build of his body was completely different, and probably most compellingly: this Uchiha Madara was approximately seven inches shorter than the fake.

Yet, she felt a sense of attachment to him.

She didn’t _like_ him in any sense of the word. To be fair, she didn’t even know him. Only, he was the single person in this era that she had any connection to. Even as fake as their connection was, since it wasn’t actually _him_ she knew (knows?) in the future, she knew things about him. She knew he became the first missing-nin of Konoha. He was (will be?) the first missing-nin of any hidden village. He hungered for power so deeply that he raged against the world, against everyone, including his own clan. 

Konan learned another truth about Uchiha Madara: he loved his brother.

Konan lingered around the Uchiha clan for a time, unwilling to leave the warped reminder of home so quickly. As such, she saw the aftermath of the battle where Izuna was cut down.

She witnessed Uchiha Madara at his lowest. The man was boiling with grief, rage, and denial, all rolled up into one powder keg. Konan knew how this went. Izuna would die, Madara would continue to fight the Senju clan in a losing war. Peace would be made and he would defect.

Izuna gave Madara his eyes.

Konan was very much aware that, in the future, Tobi had a Thing for the eyes of his clanmates. She knew little about his reasoning, or what purpose the eyes served beyond replacements, yet in this pivotal moment she couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming sense of dread. The exchange of eyes was significant. It was a sacrifice. It wasn’t Tobi stealing power from the clan he massacred, it was a man giving one last gift to his brother.

Izuna wasn’t quite dead when the healers pronounced him so.

Konan figured her standards for death might be a little different from the healers of this time. She was well accustomed to performing miracles for her near-dead shinobi in Ame. If the heart stopped beating, it was only a minor inconvenience. As long as she got to the shinobi as soon as possible, they would probably be fine, provided they visited a hospital sometime soon.

Thus, in an impulse borne of desperate isolation, Konan saved Izuna’s life. The Angel of Ame, one last time.

“It’s mostly forests near Konoha.” Konan broke the silence, still staring out at the ocean beyond them. “There’s freshwater, ponds and lakes, but nothing like this.”

“I doubt that anywhere is quite like Whirlpool.” Mito mused. Konan felt a spark of irritation. Why must she deliberately miss the point?

“Will you be happy there?” Konan cut to the chase.

“That’s a very kind question, Konan.” Mito smiled gently, placed her hand over Konan’s. Konan found herself very aware of her now tingling skin. “Vague and unnecessary, but kind.”

“It is neither vague nor unnecessary.” Konan retorted. Mito linked their fingers together, yet Konan’s hand remained still and palm-down on the ground. “You’re leaving behind the only place you’ve ever known.”

“It will be an adjustment, I’m sure,” Mito conceded, “but we all must move on eventually. My family and my clan will be with me. You will be with me, too.”

Mito studied her for a moment in contemplative silence, then continued. “This change isn’t something to fear, Konan.”

It took Konan a long time to gain the trust of the Uzumaki clan. She had stumbled upon them with Izuna, still pathetically clinging to life, searching for a healer of any decent skill. She didn’t dare risk searching for one in the Land of Fire, as obvious as it was that Izuna was Uchiha. That would have been begging for disaster. Instead, she carried him on an impromptu pilgrimage across the nation. She searched for anyone of acceptable skill removed from the disaster in Fire. What she found were Uzumakis in the Land of Whirlpools.

At first, she was confronted with suspicion and hostility. Any clan still standing knew to trust none outside their kin. She approached as openly and obviously as she could in the hope that it would grant her at least some benefit of the doubt. She must have looked pathetic, as she was then. She had been struggling for months, even before she was suddenly the sole caretaker of a helpless Uchiha. Her body weight had dropped to the worst it had been since she first started training with Jiraiya sensei. She was still wearing her Akatsuki robes, the hole where she had been impaled was fully visible and obvious, bloodstains and all. She stood before the clan leader, Izuna hanging limply with his arm around her shoulder, and requested sanctuary. 

She expected to be taken prisoner. Instead, after Izuna’s wounds began to be treated, they offered to hire her.

“Change has always come suddenly to me.” Konan confessed carefully, quietly into the night air. “Change that gave me no choice but to adapt and survive. The alternative was to die in stagnation. I am not accustomed to watching change come toward me slowly.”

“You are describing grief, not change.” Mito said gently.

“Maybe.” Konan admitted. “I usually find little difference between the two.”

“Even now?”

At first, Mito was her warden.

Mito was a skilled kunoichi as well as the clan leader’s firstborn daughter. She had no fear of a half-starved wandering stranger.

The days passed slowly. Konan ate, recovered her strength. Mito seemed to enjoy showing her the variety of seafood her homeland had to offer. She introduced Konan to increasingly strange and unappealing dishes, some of which Konan was certain she was making up on the spot. Ame had been a sea-faring village as well, yet constant war limited their cuisine. Practicality in the face of scarce resources caused many of their traditional recipes to be lost. As such, Konan was unaccustomed to most of the food Mito shared with her, as well as other aspects of life in Whirlpool.

Mito indulged her curiosity about Uzumaki tradition, the harmless ones at least. Konan was kept well away from any clan secrets, yet was allowed an alarming amount of freedom, as long as Mito escorted her. She was allowed to explore the sentimentality and tradition in daily life among Uzumaki. 

She was introduced to Mito’s siblings. Kirara was only a few years younger than Mito; Yui was the baby of the trio at thirteen. 

Kirara was less significantly friendly than her older sibling. Konan rarely saw her alone; only when she encountered Yui did Kirara make herself known. Yui was much more interested in Konan, wanting to hear everything about her travels in the world outside Whirlpool. The girl yet to be assigned her first mission, possibly because of a certain overprotective elder sibling. Thus, Yui spent most of her time running errands for others living within the compound, and hounding Konan for attention whenever she was in range.

Each sister shared the same vibrant red hair, apparently an Uzumaki trait. Konan froze, sometimes, when she saw one of the sisters approach, a flash of red hair in the corner of her eye invoking an impossible, instinctive expectation. In all of them was a piece of the man she had loved and protected for as long as she could remember. Sometimes, if only for a brief moment, she forgot herself, and thought he was still there with her.

They were foolish fantasies. Nagato had been gone for longer than Konan wanted to admit. In quiet moments, though, she wished she could share this with him.

Yui and Mito (under the supervision of Kirara) taught Konan Uzumaki style braiding. Konan never had the opportunity or inclination to learn to braid at all, but it was a community passtime for all Uzumakis, regardless of gender. Yui insisted they order themselves in a little line, Konan practicing on Mito’s hair while Yui styled Konan’s. They passed many afternoons that way: sitting cross-legged in the garden, lined one after another, Yui filling the air with idle chatter and gossip, Mito’s teasing her sister with all the affection of a long-suffering sibling. Konan grew used to the casual affection, yet wished fruitlessly that it was Nagato here to meet his family.

Konan’s hair grew longer than it had in her former life. It was different, now, anyway: bleached snow-white ever since she arrived in this era. The previous morning was not an exception to her newly discovered routine; Konan, Yui, Mito, and two of their cousins had braided each other’s hair in a horrendously uneven circle of people. Yui had given Konan a braided circlet this time, leaving her neck open to the gentle seaside breeze.

“I grieve for the time I spent in Whirlpool, that it has to end. It was… unique.” Konan had grown to love the people here, despite how chaotic they often were.

“That’s a description I’ve heard once or twice.” Mito’s amusement was clear.

“It was _good_.” Konan stressed. She turned to face Mito completely. Mito returned the gesture, shifting to lean on her side, closer to Konan. Konan met her eyes, tried to convey the depth of her sincerity. “I could spend a lifetime trying to repay you and your clan for the kindness you have shown me and it wouldn’t be nearly enough.”

“You owe us nothing.” Mito’s head tilted to the side lazily with a reassuring smile. “You have given us just as much as we have given you.”

“I lived and breathed war, Mito.” Konan’s childhood and adult life had each been consumed by war and brutality. All she was ever able to do was violently protect the few precious things left. “I have never once known peace. You have no idea what you’ve given me.”

“I grieve with you, Konan, that our home is peaceful compared to yours." Mito murmured. 

Konan knew that Mito’s life, and the lives of the entire Uzumaki clan, had never been ideal. Shinobi life in this era was nothing like it will be (was?) in the future, but it remained brutal. Children were trained to kill, clans were pitted against each other instead of villages. The Uzumaki clan did not face the devastation that Ame endured, nor was their situation in any way comparable to the security and power of Konoha. 

Mito may not know the extent of Konan’s past, but she was far from ignorant.

“We will both be happy, I think, together in the village.” Mito said with confidence, an obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Together.” Konan repeated blankly.

“Yes.” Mito squeezed their still-joined hands, as if to punctuate her words.

Konan knew how this went.

Mito would arrive in Konoha, meet Shodaime Senju Hashirama for the first time. The man had legendary charisma; if he could charm two clans into ending a century long war, he would no doubt be able to charm Mito. Konan had been thinking frequently, lately, of the Mito in her future (past?). The original jinchuuriki, the first woman to tame and control a biju. A feat that was made possible in no small part from the bond she shared with her husband. They would be perfect together.

“You will meet many new people in Konoha.” Konan drew her hand from Mito’s, crossed her arms at her chest. “I don’t expect you to be chained to me forever.”

She hardly needed her services as warden or companion now. Konoha would be an entirely new world for the both of them. 

“You’re ridiculous.” Mito rolled her eyes. “Who else could possibly hold my interest but you?”

“How do you know? You haven’t met any of them yet.”

Mito moved closer toward Konan, peering around at her so that their eyes met once more. A sly smirk quirked her lips. “Insecurity is not like you.” 

“I’m not insecure.” Konan corrected at once. “I’m only pointing out that you sound much more familiar than you intend.”

“Who are you to decide my intentions?”

“Speak clearly, then, if you have something to say.”

“You fascinate me.” Konan can’t place Mito’s expression, eyes glassy and lip quivering minutely. On anyone else, Konan would assume it was _fear_ , but she had never seen Mito scared, ever. 

“I have never loved another quite how I love you.”

“ _Love_ -” Konan choked out, eyes wide.

“Every drop of information I learn about you only leaves me desperately curious for more. You make me _ramble_ , you atrociously quiet woman, trying to keep your attention on me.” The more Mito spoke, the more animated she became, words tripping over themselves as they rushed from her throat. “I have never met someone so difficult to crack. I want to know what makes you tick, understand all the pieces and parts of you. I’ve restrained myself from saying anything to you for _so long_ , I didn’t want to scare you, or make you feel _obligated_ but gods above if you don’t say anything soon I think I may throw myself into the waves -”

She was always so _dramatic._ Konan pressed a kiss to her cheek, stopping the sudden flow of words instantly.

“Insecurity isn’t like you.” Konan whispered.

“I’m not insecure.” Mito whispered back, lips now close enough that Konan could feel her breath over her ear.

Konan heard the nearby ocean as if it were a roar in her head, drowning out all other thoughts but _Mito, Mito, Mito._

Mito, who loved her.

“Good. You have no reason to be.” Konan retreated enough to meet Mito’s eyes. “If you want me, I am yours.”

Mito’s expression crumpled, wavered, then hardened in determination. “You owe me nothing, Konan. I would never want to take this from you.”

 _Always_ so difficult. She required so many _words._

“I promise, I very much want you to.” Konan attempted reassurance.

“Now who isn’t speaking clearly?” Mito joked weakly.

“I have loved three people.” Konan revealed more to Mito than she had to any other living person. “All of them were taken from me. I need you to be… patient.”

“One of my many skills, I assure you.” Mito said, nodding understandingly. Konan smiled slightly at Mito’s predictable attempt at levity. 

“I have no experience with what I feel for you, nothing to fall back on.” No experience, but she knew how important it was, for Mito, to be open and clear about… them. “I want this, with you, very much. I want you. You are not taking advantage of me.”

“Good.” Mito reached for Konan’s hand once more. This time, Konan allowed their fingers to intertwine, properly, and held her hand carefully between them. “We can figure it out together.”

“Okay.” Konan murmured.

“See? Change can be a good thing.” Mito's face was clear of worry now, eyes sparkling with giddy happiness. 

Beside her, Mito's presence was warm in the face of the chilled ocean air. The soft fabric of her kimono brushed their joined hands when she inhaled. Konan gazed upon the incredible woman before her, her companion turned friend turned something more, and for the first time since she arrived felt a reason to hope.

“Not always, but this time… maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> fuel for my white hair konan agenda. if obito gets to have white hair post-resurrection, so does konan.


End file.
